See What I See
by champagne for the pain
Summary: Pansy is insecure. Draco shows her she has zero reason to be. DM/PP.


**Pairing:** Dransy (Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson)  
 **Timeline:** Fifth year ?  
 **Rating:** NC-17 hehe (I've uploaded M-rated stories in the past that had heavy sexual themes but really were not graphic. Full disclosure: this one is.)  
 **Warnings:** Underage, graphic

 **Author's Note:** Special thanks to _crowned-disaster_ on Tumblr for reading over this, and for your support, and for all our fun conversations about these two precious babies. The Dransy fandom isn't too big (or so it seems), so if you enjoy this fic, I would really appreciate it if you'd take the time to leave a review. :)

* * *

Pansy was beginning to hate crying almost as much as she hated Mudbloods and blood traitors.

She'd always been a highly emotional girl. Crying was something she did, she would venture to guess, a bit more than the other girls in her year. And usually it was fine. It made sense to cry when Draco was attacked by Buckbeak in third year because she was scared for his safety. It made sense to cry when her parents said she wasn't allowed to accompany Draco and his family to the Quidditch World Cup before fourth year because she wanted to spend time with him.

It did not make sense to cry over stupid words spoken by those beneath her. And yet here she was, for the third night in a row, huddled up on Daphne's bed, crying into her best friend's neck (curtains drawn and Silencing Charms activated, of course). She had homework to do. She had Prefect patrols in twenty minutes. She had a boyfriend who wouldn't believe she wasn't feeling well forever every time he tried to initiate sex.

She was really, really thankful for Daphne.

There was no one else in the school—maybe the world—whom she would trust with this sort of situation. Pansy was very adamant that the public be under the impression she didn't have an insecurity in the world. She didn't even want to imagine what they'd think if they knew she was on her third night of shedding tears over the words of that wretched Mudblood.

Daphne was quiet in her comfort and didn't push Pansy to talk, which the other girl appreciated more than she'd ever find the courage to tell the eldest Greengrass sister. And when Pansy had gotten her feelings out for the night and showed up to breakfast the next morning with her makeup perfect and signature smirk set in place, Daphne would fallright in line, walking on Pansy's right and laughing at all her jokes and gossiping about who was wearing what as though nothing was out of the ordinary, just as she'd done every other time.

Daphne understood the importance of saving face.

Daphne also understood that three nights of your best friend crying through the shoulder of your nightie meant a Best Friendervention was now not just a Should, but a Must.

"It's not true, you know," the blonde said quietly, stroking her friend's short black hair away from her tear-streaked cheeks. "Nothing she says is true." When Pansy tilted her head with a 'come on' look on her face, Daphne amended, "Nothing she says about anything _non-school_ is true. Sure, she can tell you when every Wizarding war was fought and every Wizarding law was passed, but she doesn't know a thing about fashion, she doesn't know a thing about pure-blood society, and she sure as hell wouldn't know what attractive was if it slapped her in her ugly face. Case in point: she's got a thing for the Weasel." Daphne exaggeratedly wrinkled up her nose and crossed her eyes in the hopes her comment and expression would cause a laugh to bubble up out of her best friend.

No such luck.

Pansy sniffled and, staring at Daphne's green bed set, bit out as though it was painful to say aloud, "Not everyone thinks she's ugly..."

Daphne groaned. "Not this again."

"You didn't see the way he looked at her, Daph." Pansy felt fresh tears brim in her blue eyes and slowly spill over. She felt like she was going to throw up just reliving the memory she tried so hard, especially as of late, to repress. "He looked at her like... like there wasn't a flaw in sight."

"Um, reality check, Pans?" Daphne gripped her best friend by the shoulders and stared into her eyes as she said, "That was the first time she didn't look like a complete and utter troll! Draco was probably in shock and wondering what kind of Dark magic she'd had to use to make herself look even somewhat presentable!" She licked her lips and said, "But you know what you missed? The way Draco couldn't take his eyes off you literally the entire rest of the evening! For you, the night was over once Granger showed up, but for Draco? He looked at you like you were a beauty to behold. He did NOT look like he was in shock and trying to decipher which parts of your appearance had been reconstructed by a spell from the private library of You-Know-Who Himself."

Pansy swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She told Daphne she needed to get going or she wouldn't have time to fix her appearance before rounds with Draco. She did not tell Daphne that she hadn't wanted the rest of an evening; she'd wanted a whole evening, one where Draco was not looking at other girls, especially the Mudblood Granger, but rather undividedly fixed upon her.

But then it'd never been a secret that she cared more for him than he did for her. Why would it be any other way? He was perfect: all sharp features and slim, toned Seeker's body, enigmatic gray eyes, perfect grades, with a sense of humor that could make the entire Slytherin table erupt in laughter and the charisma that assured he'd have a great position in government one day. And then there was her, with her stupid nose and her pathetic inability to hold his attention for one night, over Granger, no less. If it weren't for her blood status, he probably wouldn't be dating her, anyway. There were plenty of other girls in Slytherin House who would love to date Draco Malfoy, and now more than ever, Pansy found herself counting down the days until he acknowledged to himself what Granger had brought to the attention of the entire fucking Gryffindor House and told her, as politically correctly as he could, that he wished to see other people. And it didn't matter how many times she thought through the scenario (because sometimes she had particularly masochistic nights where she forced herself to picture it happening); the all-consuming pain never stung any less.

"All right?" Draco asked when he saw her enter the common room so they could head out for rounds.

Pansy's makeup had been redone, but evidently her aura needed some work. She plastered on her fake smile and said all too cheerfully, "Perfect!"

He didn't seem to notice because he slipped his hand into hers and led her out the doorway like he did any other night.

* * *

But that was the thing about Draco Malfoy: you never knew what he was thinking unless he told you.

Usually he was all about announcing his opinions loudly and in public for everyone to hear and agree with (or to provoke Potter, if he and the other members of the Golden Trio happen to be within earshot). But then maybe subconsciously he did this in part so that when he had a private thought, no one would suspect he was hiding something, because surely if he thought something, he'd say it aloud, right?

Draco knew his girlfriend inside and out, and of the many things she was, quiet was not one of them. Pansy was usually overflowing with excitement, whether it be about an upcoming Quidditch match he was playing in or a shopping trip she was planning with Daphne and the girls or a stunt one or both of them had pulled to mess with the Gryffindorks. Her azure eyes would light up with happiness or malicious glee or sexual pleasure, and he'd know what she was feeling simply by reading her eyes.

Tonight marked Night Three of the Reservation of Pansy Parkinson, of her blue eyes showing him nothing but blankness, except when she thought he wasn't looking and he'd catch a hint of sadness in their depths. And it unsettled him more than his cold, public facade would ever allow him to show.

To anyone who didn't know him well, especially Potty and his fellow Gryffindorks, Draco was a cold-hearted bastard whose only cares were himself, his family, his name, and his wealth. He knew that was what they all thought, and that was the way he wanted it. Slytherins were not openly vulnerable, Malfoys even less so.

What those people never would've guessed, though, was how much he cared when he cared.

Pansy had practically been his girlfriend since they were five; they were just too young to admit it back then. In the ten years they had been in each other's lives, and especially over the last three when they officially became Boyfriend and Girlfriend, Draco had come to know Pansy like the back of his hand. She brightened any mood, was the most loyal person he had ever known, and made the sexist little sounds when they fucked. He knew she was in love with the color pink, he knew she had a soft spot for magical creatures which she'd never own up to, and he knew something was weighing on her soul, bringing down her spirits and making her sad, and that affected him so much he'd nearly forgotten his hatred for Potter these past few days.

He also knew, however, that Pansy was nearly as bad as him at locking up her feelings and refusing to tell anyone when she was upset.

He used the word _nearly_ , of course, because Pansy at least told her best friend.

When their rounds were done, Draco walked Pansy up to the girls' dorms, where he "accidentally" flicked the lamps on, causing three sleepy girls to squint and grumble for him to be considerate of their beauty sleep. Daphne was about to close her bed curtains when Draco caught her eye and held her attention just long enough to silently communicate he had something to say. Predictably, Daphne looked like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes flicked to Pansy whose back was turned to her as she went about the dorm in search of her nightie, and Draco waved his hand in the air until the blonde unwillingly returned her hardened gaze to him. He gave a single firm shake of his head, effectively making it clear Daphne may not discuss this with Pansy. The eldest Greengrass sister only pursed her lips and drew her bed curtains shut.

Once Draco had kissed Pansy goodnight, he returned to his own dorm and took out a piece of parchment. He scrawled _Moaning Myrtle's bathroom tomorrow during lunch. Come alone. We need to talk_ , folded it into an origami bird, and enchanted it to fly off to Daphne's quarters.

Draco was already dressed for bed and climbing under the covers when her response arrived.

 _Deal._

* * *

Daphne entered the bathroom precisely five minutes after Draco arrived. Once he'd slipped away from the Great Hall, she'd made sure Crabbe and Goyle had her best friend distracted before following after him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she pointedly avoided his eyes as she walked over to the sinks where the Malfoy heir was lazily leaning back against one of the basins. She stopped a good five feet before him and asked, "What's this about?"

Draco rolled his gray eyes and pushed away from the porcelain fixture. "Oh, come off it, Daph. You know exactly what this is about."

The fair witch shrugged. "Actually, I've not a clue—"

"What's wrong with Pansy?"

"Nothing."

" _Daphne_."

The witch threw her hands up in the air. "How should I know?"

"Because she tells you everything."

"Look, Draco, if you think something's wrong, you can ask her yourself."

"I have!" Draco's voice echoed off the walls around them. Daphne flinched despite herself. "She claims she's fine, but I know she's lying. Something's wrong and I can't help unless I know what it is." When the witch's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, making that deer caught in headlights expression again, the wizard decided it was time to pull out all the stops: "Unless of course you _want_ dear Theodore to know about how you've been snogging Blaise behind his back."

Daphne's eyebrows shot up. "What! I've never—"

"Doesn't matter," he said with an evil, triumphant smirk. "You know how jealous Theo gets."

Daphne's hands balled themselves up into tight fists; she was shaking with quiet rage.

Draco appeared satisfied. "Now…" He took a step toward the eldest Greengrass sister. "Are you going to tell me what's upsetting my lovely girlfriend or not?"

The blonde's jaw set. She took a very measured inhale-exhale and stared at a spot on the wall somewhere behind Draco's ear. "Granger came up with a… nickname for her. About her nose."

Draco blinked. "And?"

"It caught on to the whole of Gryffindor House."

The blond glanced to the side and furrowed his brows. "Again I say: and?"

"What do you mean, 'And'?!"

"The Gryffindorks have names for me, too, most notably 'Ferret.'" He shrugged. "Who cares what they think?"

Daphne looked him head-on, incredulous now. "Pansy cares!"

"Why—"

"Draco, she's _really_ insecure! She's spent the last three nights crying in my bed before meeting up with you for rounds!"

The Malfoy heir felt a pang in his heart at this little tidbit, but it was quickly overcome by a surge of anger rushing through his veins. "Over what the _Mudblood_ has to say?"

"Yes," Daphne said adamantly.

"Why?"

She pursed her lips and averted her eyes.

" _Daphne_."

"She thinks you have a thing for her, okay?!"

Draco stared at her for one full second before he burst into a fit of laughter so violent it hurt his ribs. He doubled over, his lean frame shaking with amusement, before wiping at his eyes and asking, "No, seriously, why?"

The witch blinked.

Slowly, the wizard registered the reality of her words. Horror overcame his features. " _Seriously_?"

"Mmm-hmm."

If there had ever been a time when he was completely dumbfounded… "What in Merlin's beard possessed her to think—"

"The Yule Ball."

"Huh?"

Daphne sighed and adjusted her stance, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "You remember how Granger showed up _not_ looking like she'd just escaped from Azkaban?"

"Ohhh yes," Draco promised, looking haunted. "It was like Snape displaying kindness to a first year: beyond weird and impossible not to notice."

Daphne raised her eyebrows pointedly.

When Draco registered her expression, the pieces started to click in his brain. "No…"

"Apparently, you _noticed_ for one second too long."

"No!" he said again, louder this time. His thoughts raced to be the first spoken. "Daphne, I _had_ to look! I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me! I—"

"Trust me," she held up a hand, "I know. I've told Pansy as much, but her confidence is so far in the dirt, she won't believe me."

Draco gripped the basin once more and stared down at the drain, trying to get his bearings. Pansy actually thought he had feelings for _Granger_? That he thought _Granger_ was attractive? He didn't know whether to laugh or scream or toss his lunch. And when exactly did she think about this? Did it start when the name calling started, or had this been a constant worry of hers for the past year when they were in class together and on dates together and… in his bed together? If he had ever known pain, it was that last thought. To think that Pansy might have worried he preferred Granger to her when they shared such intimacy physically hurt his heart.

He took a deep breath, lifted his head, released the basin, and turned to face Daphne once more. "Maybe not. But she'll believe me."

* * *

Pansy walked up to the Slytherin portrait door, desperately willing herself to keep it together. She'd been in the library, trying (and mostly failing) to study with her girlfriends after dinner, when Greg had awkwardly stopped by their table to deliver a message: "Draco wants to talk to you. Alone. He's waiting in the common room."

The raven-haired witch's eyes had flicked to her best friend. Daphne only gave a shrug and a smile Pansy knew she was supposed to interpret to mean, _Don't assume the worst_. She'd taken a deep breath, gathered her things, and told her girlfriends she'd catch up with them later before soldiering out of the library and on towards her death.

As she fed the portrait the password, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd unintentionally brought this on herself. She'd spent the last four days dwelling so much on the inevitable day Draco ended things with her that it seemed too coincidental he'd choose now to do it. Maybe he'd overheard the Gryffindors and realized he couldn't be dating someone who made him look bad for another second.

Draco was sitting alone on one of the common room sofas when she entered. She wanted to force a cheerful "Hey!" but she suddenly felt like there were needles in her throat. He must've arranged it so every other Slytherin in every grade was elsewhere for this moment. He didn't want to embarrass her. She wordlessly walked over to him, pointedly not meeting his gaze.

He stood and leaned over to kiss her in greeting. "Hi."

"What's this about?" she asked in a voice that didn't sound like hers. She hated this. She was already on the verge of tears. She didn't know how she'd bear it when he actually said the words.

Draco stepped closer and brushed the backs of his fingers along her jaw. "Daphne and Theo agreed to cover rounds for us tonight," he murmured.

Pansy's thoughts stopped then started back up again in a whirl, trying to process this new piece of information. _Daphne knew something…?_

"Let's go to my room, yeah?" He kissed the curve of her ear and took her hand in his. The next thing she knew, he was leading her to the boys' dorms.

She'd worked out what was going on even before she saw the room.

There were two large mirrors: one in front of Draco's bed, the other behind. Rose-scented candles (her favorite) burned on the bedside table, and the bed itself was sprinkled with rose petals.

The breath caught in her throat.

So he wasn't breaking up with her tonight.

"I know."

His words brought Pansy out of her reverie. She swallowed once and forced her expression into an indifferent mask before turning to face him. "Know what?"

"Everything. Daphne told me."

Pansy bit her lip so hard she was surprised she didn't break the skin. She didn't know if she wanted to _Avada_ Daphne, or… well, she didn't _want_ to cry, but she felt the tears working their way through her all the same. _Keep it together_.

Draco closed what little space there was between them until there was scarcely a millimeter separating her chest from his. "Do you want to know what I thought when I saw Granger at the Yule Ball? The _exact_ words that ran through my mind?"

Her chin wobbled and she shook her head, swiping at her eyes in the process. "No," she whispered honestly. Agony spread through her chest and she repeated her answer in a plea: "No, I don't want to know."

"Yes, you do," he said firmly. He tipped her chin up so she had to look at him, and when she did, she saw how much it pained him to hear her response. "When I saw her, I thought, 'Wow. Even trash gets lucky once in a while.' And then I forgot about her for the rest of the night." He tucked a strand of his witch's short black hair behind her ear and said quietly, "Because I was so happy to be there with you, the most beautiful girl in the room."

Pansy's breathing became uneven, and without thinking about it, she reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her small form and held her tight in his embrace. The kiss was honest and sincere and full of need—on both ends, Pansy noticed. She felt Draco's long fingers tugging the hem of her blouse out of her skirt, and when he began to undo her buttons, she reciprocated his actions. He hummed with approval upon seeing her lacy pink bra, and feeling inspired, she pushed his shirt off his lean yet muscular frame. She licked her lips and dropped to her knees to undo his zipper, but he clasped her wrists, pulled her back up, and said, "Don't."

She stared up at him with confusion as he discarded his shoes and socks off to the side of his bed then removed his pants by himself. He stepped behind her and commanded softly in her ear, "Close your eyes."

A rush of heat consumed her insides. Was this some sort of new kink he wanted to try out? If so, she was certainly on board. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply as she prepared herself for whatever it was he had in mind.

Draco lowered his lips to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He placed slow, sensual, open-mouthed kisses along the exposed skin there as his hands sought out her breasts. He squeezed and massaged her through her bra, allowed his teeth to lightly scrape the sensitive skin of her shoulder, then quickly lathed the mark with his tongue.

Pansy was already starting to squirm when he pressed himself against her backside. She moaned upon feeling the solid length of his covered cock against her ass.

"Do you feel what you do to me, Pans?" he asked huskily, his fingers trailing along her rib cage and around her sides. He unhooked her bra unceremoniously, and she both heard it drop to the floor and felt the cold air hit her naked breasts. The cold didn't last long, though, because a moment later, Draco's hands were covering her. He pinched and rolled her nipples with his fingers, ground his erection into her ass. He growled against her neck, "Feel how bad I want you?"

She whimpered and shakily lifted her arms to twine her fingers in his hair. She tugged on the short white-blond strands as her body trembled, and he made a low noise of approval deep in his throat. He moved one hand away from her breast to unzip her skirt; he yanked the garment down around her ankles in one swift motion. His hand cupped her mound, covered in knickers that matched her bra, and he made a starved sound when he felt the wet material. "You're soaked." He ground his thumb against her clit through the lace and she tugged on his hair harder, whining, struggling to swallow the thick layer of saliva coating her throat. He bowed his head into the crook of her neck and groaned, deeply aroused. "And throbbing." He stroked his thumb against her clit in time to his strokes against her nipple, and she twisted and turned in his arms.

"Draco…" Her voice was a deprived, broken sound full of want and need. "Please…"

He slipped her knickers down her lean legs and they hit the carpet with a faint sound Pansy hardly registered, because immediately after, her boyfriend's fingers were on her cunt, skin to skin with no barrier. He ground his still torturously clothed cock into the cleft of her ass and slipped his fingers between her folds, spreading her arousal from her entrance up to her clit, coating it even more thoroughly. He rubbed her in small, quick circles that had her moaning and writhing with unabashed lust.

"Pansy, you know I only accept the best, yeah?"

Pansy was amazed she was even able to make out his words in this state. Her arousal was peaked so high she felt as though she'd explode if she didn't find release soon. Somehow, she managed to nod.

"Say it," he commanded in a voice so rough she thought she'd come right then and there.

She swallowed thickly as her insides quivered. "Y-Yeah."

"Look," he bade in just above a whisper.

Shakily, she opened her eyes—and nearly moaned at the sight in the mirror before her. A delicious flush of desire had spread across her cheeks and her rising and falling chest, across the tops of the swells of her breasts. Her nipples were pulled taut. Her pupils were so big her whole eyes seemed black. One of Draco's lightly muscled arms was wrapped around her small torso, holding her up, while the other slunk itself around her hip, his long fingers toying with her dripping wet sex, keeping her slick and aching.

She looked fucking hot.

Nuzzling her ear, Draco whispered, "You are the best, Pansy," so softly it slipped right through the cracks in her heart and wound itself up inside of her, making her feel warm and on the verge of tears all at once.

The next thing she knew, Draco was kneeling before her—Draco Lucius Malfoy, _kneeling_ , before _her_ —molten gray eyes gazing up at her with lust and unmistakable love, kissing the inside of her right thigh and murmuring, "I am so, so lucky to have you, princess," before fastening his lips onto her clit and sucking hard.

A broken scream tore its way out of the pure-blood heiress' throat as she threw her head back and threaded her pink-manicured nails through her boyfriend's soft pale hair. He slipped one finger then two inside of her and pumped them in and out. He flicked the tip of his tongue against her sensitive bud between his lips and bit down ever so slightly. That was all it took for Pansy to shatter. She cried out his name as her body shook uncontrollably with her release. Her voice cut off and she fell back onto Draco's bed and entered nirvana, where no words dared disturb the intense pleasure coursing through her. The cold, leathery rose petals sprinkled upon his duvet touched the hot skin of her back, and the shock of the temperature difference further heightened her senses and made her orgasm even more intense.

Draco removed his fingers and licked her delicately through her release. Once she settled down from the high, he ate her out to the most pleasing chorus of her contented moans.

He climbed up her body slowly, kissing every beautiful inch of her on the way up: her lovely little hip bones, the dip of her waistline, her ribs, her breasts, her neck, until finally he reached her reverently parted lips. He enticed her tongue languidly, trying to tell her everything he felt through the kiss. Pansy seemed to understand because she almost imperceptibly moved her lips only a hair's breadth away from his, and said in the most vulnerable, raw voice he had ever heard her use, "Draco…"

He nodded and kissed her eyelids, her bright blue eyes glinting with unshed tears. It was moments like this that made him marvel at how deeply woven their bond was: he understood her request completely.

 _Make love to me._

He pushed his boxers off his hips and let them fall onto the floor. Then he trailed his fingers down Pansy's thin arm and captured her small hand in his own. Gently, he guided her fingers to wrap around his length and bring him to her entrance. He covered her lips with his own as he finally pushed into her, and they groaned into each other's mouths. Draco took his time moving in and out of her; Pansy felt like they were clouds connected by silk. He bent his head and kissed the hollow beneath her ear, the underside of her jaw, the sensitive spot on her neck, then lower as he lavished his talented tongue's attentions on her nipples, adding in a pull of his lips and a nip of his teeth every so often. Pansy whimpered softly, buried her face in the crook of his neck, and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, wanting to pull him in deeper, closer to her.

"You feel so fucking perfect," he groaned against her neck as she clenched her inner walls around him. She hadn't even realized she'd done it; all she knew was she needed more. More of him now, tonight, tomorrow, forever. He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he snaked his hand down in between them and began rubbing her clit in slow, torturous circles that made her arch her back and mewl. Draco groaned again, completely uninhibited, as Pansy's eyes slipped closed and her perfect white teeth trapped her slightly swollen bottom lip in between them.

What had he done to deserve the honor of calling this magnificent creature his?

In one fluid motion, Draco flipped them so that he was laying back on the mattress and Pansy was mounting him. His lover gave a squeal of surprise then opened her eyes and looked at him in wonder. While they'd tried many positions, they'd not ventured into territory that put her in the dominant role—Pansy rather liked Draco being in control. Through their years-old bond, Draco read her mind. He clasped her hands in his and leant up to kiss her deeply. "Come undone for me, princess," he murmured in a half-whisper, half-rasp. "Let me see you stoke your pleasure."

Pansy whimpered and tried not to let her emotions spill over. He was looking at her so adoringly, like she was his entire world, and knowing that the feeling was reciprocated after believing otherwise for so long... It sparked something within her that made her come alive. With newfound confidence, her hands still clasped in his, she began to ride him, at first slowly and then faster, harder, and ooh, Merlin, this position was exquisite! She felt so _full_ , so deliciously full, and the experience was made all the more intense by the fact that she could not tear her blazing blue eyes away from his molten silver.

Draco was transfixed with the little moans leaving her lips unbidden, the flush entirely covering her chest, her perfect breasts swaying back and forth as she sought out her pleasure. The feel of her silken cunt wrapped around him like a glove made just for him threatened to make him spill inside her at any second.

"Look behind me, Pansy," he growled as she moved her right hand to tease her slippery nub. "Look at yourself in the mirror. See what I see."

Pansy obeyed without question, and the sight made her heart catch in her throat. She was _beautiful_ , all uninhibited and impassioned. She could practically see the internal tremors wracking her body as two words filled her mind on a loop: _too much too much too much._

With one final swipe of her fingers over her clit, she came apart. Draco sat up the moment he felt her orgasm begin and replaced her stilled fingers with his own, tenderly helping her ride it out. Pansy soared into the clouds as Draco's mouth covered hers once more, and the blackness behind her eyelids turned to technicolor. As she was coming down from her climax, Draco's began, and she boldly murmured, "Mine," against his mouth, over and over, fingers stroking his eternally soft hair as he spilled into her.

The two collapsed back onto the mattress side by side, facing one another. Draco slipped out of her and drew her near; Pansy snuggled herself into his body as close as she could get. He pulled his satin covers up over them both as she buried her face contentedly in his chest. He wrapped her up in his arms, bringing them as physically close as possible, and kissed the top of her head. "Mine," he returned just before they both slipped over the precipice into sleep.

* * *

When Draco next woke, Pansy was laying on top of him, chin resting just below his collar bone and blue eyes staring off into the distance. She was clearly pondering something; he could tell by the cute little crease between her brows.

He leant forward just a bit and kissed the tip of her nose. "Now _this_ is how you wake up," he said, grabbing her ass under the covers and swatting it playfully.

She smiled faintly but didn't give one of those high-pitched squeals that made his heart sing.

"What is it?"

"I need something better than 'Mudblood,'" she murmured, still not meeting his eyes. "It's overplayed."

Draco could have jumped for joy. Pansy was done being a victim. She wanted to fight back.

The blond shifted into a sitting position, pulling his witch up with him. He nudged her knees apart until they dug into the mattress on either side of his hips, then he clutched her waist and looked up into those expressive blue eyes. "Want my advice?"

Pansy placed her hands at the back of his neck and nodded earnestly.

"I think you shouldn't say anything back. I think, next time you see the Mudblood, you should give her that endearing little smirk of yours, like you're too pure to acknowledge her existence, laugh with your girlfriends, and strut away like you own the place." He suckled on her earlobe, dragging a low moan from deep within her sleep-addled throat. Moving to nip the curve of her ear, he hissed, "That would certainly have me on my knees."

Raw emotion mixed with lust inside of her. She possessively cupped her boyfriend's face and snogged him hard, striving to pour everything she was feeling into the kiss. He pushed the covers off her thin shoulders and trailed his fingers up her bare back, sending chills up her spine and pulling her nipples into stiff peaks against his chest. She whined and brought her lips to his ear. "I want to ride you again," she confessed in a desperate, needy tone she hadn't expected to come out of her mouth. It was uncontrollable, her need for him, for closeness with him.

He groaned and canted his hips upward, causing her to gasp with shocked pleasure as his already rock-hard cock pressed up against her already slick cunt. "I'm yours, Pansy," he grunted as her hand closed around his length and guided the tip in between her folds. "Now fuck me."

* * *

"Watch where you're going, filth!"

It was actually almost too perfect: Granger _would_ choose today to nearly run into Pansy and her girlfriends—and Draco. The Malfoy heir had discreetly left his Potions book in their previous class and demanded Crabbe and Goyle go fetch it. This gave him the perfect opportunity to walk his witch to their next class, one he knew required they cross paths with Granger.

Draco grinned when Pansy snapped at the Gryffindor. It wasn't even the meaning behind the insult she'd chosen; it was the fact that his girlfriend was back to acting like herself.

Granger was rushing along solo today, which meant there would be no backup from Potter or Weasley. Also too perfect.

The bushy-haired girl whipped around as a few people stopped in the corridor to see what would happen next. She took a few steps toward the Slytherins and raised her chin arrogantly. "I'd think before I speak if I were you, _pugface_."

And Draco thought this was another example of how strong their bond was, because he and Pansy erupted into laughter at the exact same time. Daphne and the other Slytherin girls glanced at each other, clearly not understanding what was going on, but quickly joining in when they realized it was the appropriate course of action.

Pansy sighed and shook her head, raked her eyes over Granger from head to toe, her signature smirk giving off the impression she felt bad for the girl before her. Granger looked perplexed, but she received no explanation. Draco simply kissed his girlfriend's cheek and they were off, leaving the Gryffindor to stand there, wondering what on earth had just happened and how it was that she'd lost.

She'd never guess the answer was the love of two Slytherins.


End file.
